


Not Quite According to Plan

by Julandran



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 16:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2354984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julandran/pseuds/Julandran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The end of a lovely first date... or is it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Quite According to Plan

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the SDCC trailer (No, really, it is.) and the photo of Felicity's living room that Marc Guggenheim tweeted.
> 
> I know this is going to be canon-balled all to heck, but I like the way it turned out anyway.

His lips were surprisingly soft. And the kiss itself was very nice as first kisses went, slow and restrained, a lovely end to a lovely first date.

Except that neither of them wanted it to end.

“Would you like to come in for a bit?” Felicity asked.

“Yes.” Giddiness tugged at the corners of Oliver’s mouth as he bent to nip at hers once more. She leaned into it, humming happily, before sliding a hand down to his sternum. She pushed him back a step in order to dig her keys out of her purse. As she unlocked the door, she could feel his attention on the back of her head, even more aware of him than usual. Their mutual attraction was nothing new, but acknowledging it, being so open about it and _acting_ on it, was exciting.

Felicity looked over her shoulder and reached her hand back for him. Oliver twined his fingers with hers, returning her smile as he let her tow him into her apartment. The door clicked shut behind them. She clicked on the nearest lamp, dropped her purse on the end table where it sat, and disarmed the security system.

Oliver caught the collar of her jacket as she shrugged out of it. She gave him a surprised smile over her shoulder and slipped her arms out of the sleeves. As the coat swung free, the fingers of his other hand reached out to tentatively stroke the exposed skin between the straps of her dress. Felicity inhaled sharply at the contact. She turned, retrieved her jacket, and hung it on the rack by the door.

Warm, familiar fingers curled around her elbow. Oliver gently turned her to face him. As he cupped her cheeks and pulled her close, Felicity trailed her hands up his forearms. They got lost in each other’s lips for a while. Sighs and gasps and breathy laughter passed between them. He dropped one hand and then the other to her waist, pulling her closer. She responded by wrapping her arms around his shoulders and burying one hand in the short hair at the nape of his neck.

After another minute or so, Felicity pulled back, lowering her weight onto her heels with a slight wince.

“Do you wanna sit?” she asked. “These shoes weren’t my best idea ever.”

With a mischievous smirk, he scooped her up in his arms and started walking toward her couches. Her arms instinctively tightened around his shoulders as she whooped in surprise.

“Oliver,” she laughed.

“If your feet hurt, I’m not going to make you walk all the way over here,” he reasoned glibly.

The journey from the entryway into her living room area took him a whole four strides. Oliver lowered himself to one knee beside the larger sofa, setting her on the cushions. One by one, he undid the buckles on the straps of her offending footwear, slipped them off her feet, and tucked them underneath the end table. He pressed his thumbs against her aching soles, eliciting a pleased moan from her throat.

After appreciating his talented hands for a few moments, Felicity leaned forward and curled her fingers around the back of Oliver’s neck to tug him close for another kiss. He joined in enthusiastically, letting his hands drift up her legs until they came to rest on her knee and her waist. With a playful grin, he scooped her up again, spun in place, and plopped onto the sofa. It was a little rough, but Felicity couldn’t complain much when she ended up sidesaddle in his lap. It was a much more convenient position for kissing. She returned his smile and wriggled a bit to get more comfortable. A sharp breath hissed between Oliver’s teeth. He released it as a nearly silent moan as his fingers splayed across her back, pulling her close so he could reach her mouth once more.

They stayed there for quite a while, savoring the taste of each other. Eager kisses were punctuated by quiet laughter and sighs. Hands drifted over first-date-appropriate places in first-date-appropriate ways as though they hadn’t already seen each other in various states of undress over the past two years. Felicity scratched her fingernails lightly against his scalp until he was almost purring. Oliver toyed with the tab of her dress’s zipper a few times, but didn’t make any attempt to pull it down. He seemed determined to _court_ her or something, which was sweet and all, if a bit frustrating, considering his usual tactic of jumping directly into bed with women. Then again, his past relationships hadn’t been what most people would describe as healthy. If he needed to take things slowly, she could be patient. For a while.

Eventually they paused, foreheads resting together and rapid breaths mingling between them.

“I think this is the point when you either go home or... you don’t,” she murmured. She wasn’t pushing, not much, but she wouldn’t mind him spending the night in a non-platonic capacity. A quick grin flashed across his face.

“I should go home,” he confirmed gently.

“Okay.”

They nodded, noses brushing, before pressing their lips together again. Reluctantly, Felicity climbed off his legs and stood, offering a hand he didn’t need to help him off the couch. He happily clasped it anyway and rose with his usual fluid grace. She backed toward the door. He followed, raising their joined fingers to press his lips against the backs of her knuckles.

When Felicity opened the door, Oliver stepped into the hall but didn’t release her hand. He reeled her in close and pushed her gently against the doorframe, dipping his head to recapture her lips. They lingered there, reluctant to give up this excellent new activity. They must have been kissing more vigorously than she realized, must have rubbed one or both of their lips raw, because she started to taste blood. She drew back, eyes still closed, licked her lips, and swallowed. The blood tang didn’t go away. A charred, ashen flavor crept in to join it.

_Oliver doesn’t smoke_.

Her brow furrowed in confusion. Her eyelids were heavy, but she blinked them open. She tried to take a deep breath. The air caught in her throat and made her cough.

“Whoa, whoa.” Strong, agile hands cradled her head and pulled at her shoulder until she was lying on her side. The coughing subsided enough for her to realize where she was. The familiar shadows of the foundry in nighttime mode framed a very concerned looking Roy, who was resettling himself on a stool next to the stainless steel medical table.

The table she was currently lying on.

In her new dress.

Her expensive new dress that was now ruined. _Dammit_.

The date hadn’t ended in soft kisses and romantic caresses after all. They had barely received their entrees before the explosion – she now remembered the explosion, and could identify the resulting concussion headache. (And how wrong was it that she knew what that felt like?) Her shoes _had_ been taken off by _someone_ , though, because her bare feet were itchy from the army surplus blanket wrapped around her legs. Felicity groaned as more aches made themselves known, and it set off another round of coughing.

“Hey, take it easy,” Roy instructed. “Nothing’s broken as far as we can tell, but you were out for a while and bleeding kind of a lot, so you’re probably still hurt pretty bad.”

Felicity peered at him. He was mostly calm, or at least trying to appear so for her sake.

“Oliver?” she croaked.

Roy’s expression tightened with annoyance. It was the face he got when Oliver benched him from missions. He reached down, retrieved a sports bottle, flipped up the drinking spout, and lifted it for her to drink before answering her question.

“Out. He said he’s okay, but he was a mess until we knew you were stable. He suited up and went back to try and figure out who did it. He’s been checking in every fifteen minutes or so, but he won’t tell me anything. Just wants to make sure that you’re still breathing.”

“Is John with him?”

Roy shook his head.

“On his way here. He was home with Lyla. Took the night off while you two were out on your big date. Hell, I was only here ’cause I wanted to get in some training time without everybody staring at me. Wasn’t gonna patrol until later with Sara.”

Felicity inched a hand toward the edge of the table and he took the hint, curling his fingers gently around hers for comfort. With all the progress he’d made over the last year, she sometimes forgot just how young Roy really was. In that moment, though, she saw a glimpse of the scared kid Thea had introduced them to more than a year ago.

After a few seconds, Roy straightened his back and raised his other hand to his ear, eyes refocusing on the middle distance.

“Oliver?”

Felicity pushed against the table, hitching her weight up onto her elbow. Her ribcage protested against this course of action, but the pain mostly subsided when she achieved her desired position. The metal beneath her was really cold. And hard. They should think about getting a cover for it or something.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Roy said into the comms, working to stay reasonable in the face of what was undoubtedly a rather frantic masked crimefighter on the other end. “Felicity’s awake. I thought you’d wanna know.”

He relaxed slightly at Oliver’s response.

“Yeah. Hang on.”

Roy pulled the earpiece from his own ear and offered it to her. Felicity curled her fingers around the device, lifted it to her head, and settled it in its familiar place.

“Oliver?”

“Felicity.” The way he breathed her name told her just how distraught he’d been. It scared her a little, the strength of his feelings and the lengths he was willing to go to when she was in danger. She swallowed, trying to stay calm for his sake.

“Oliver, what are you doing? Are you hurt?”

“I’m alright.” It was hard to tell if it was the truth or bravado, but she was betting on the latter. She’d seen him fight through indescribable pain before. “I’m tracking down whoever did this. They won’t get away with it.”

“Please come back,” she said. “Do you even know if this was directed at us?”

“No. But that doesn’t change anything.”

“It does,” she insisted. “You know motive can make a huge difference. If we don’t know why it happened, we could waste time running in circles.”

“That’s what I’m going to find out.”

“Oliver, please, come back. Let the police handle the initial investigation, okay? Let Roy and Sara and John help if you need the team to be involved, but please, just come back to me. I need to know that you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” She blinked back the tears of frustration. “You can’t be. You were sitting right across the table from me. Please, just this once, put aside your macho bullshit and let the police do their jobs. I promise you we will find whoever is responsible for the explosion, but you won’t be able to do that if you’re collapsed in some alley.”

“Felicity.” He always infused the syllables of her name with so much meaning. This time it a mix of desperation, fear, and anger. She hesitated for half a second before pushing ahead. She knew her next words were manipulative, but if he wouldn’t take care of himself, she wasn’t above forcing the issue.

“I need you here,” she persisted. “I need Oliver, not the Arrow. Please. Come home.”

His whispered “okay” was so resigned that she could almost hear the slump of his broad shoulders.

“Thank you.”

The water bottle from earlier appeared in her line of vision. She followed Roy’s arm up to his face to find a concerned expression there. She mouthed another thank you to him, sitting the rest of the way up and stifling a groan before taking the bottle from him. He nodded and offered a tissue with his other hand. Felicity took it as well, looking at him in confusion. Roy waved a finger under his eyes, so she dabbed at her own. She didn’t know whether she’d actually been crying or if it was just grit from the explosion irritating her eyes, but they were damp either way.

The metal door clanged open and heavy footsteps rushed down the stairs.

“Oliver? Felicity?” The deliberate calm in Diggle’s voice was belied by the way he rushed over to her. She took his hand and squeezed it.

“I’m okay, Digg. And Oliver’s on his way back,” she assured him, tapping her earpiece.

“Back?”

“Yeah, the big dumbass suited up and went out hunting.”

“Hey.” The voice in her ear was annoyed, but she was too worried and irritated to care about hurting his feelings just now.

“If you don’t want to be called a dumbass, don’t act like one,” she snapped at him.

Diggle huffed a quiet chuckle.

“Yeah, I think you’re gonna be okay,” he said. “I just hope _he_ will be once you get through with him.”

“He better be.”

He wasn’t. When he finally returned, hours later, Oliver had been drugged, suffered hallucinations, and had chosen to kill again. They blinked back tears and avoided eye contact as they agreed to put romance on hold. She couldn’t be the exception to that rule. It wasn’t right or fair.

They never did get that first kiss. Not that night. Not for a long while.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for the fakeout, guys. My brain is a very upsetting place sometimes.


End file.
